


Paying Attention

by Lefaym



Category: White Collar
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Multi, Nipple Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-25
Updated: 2010-06-25
Packaged: 2017-10-10 06:58:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lefaym/pseuds/Lefaym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal reminds Peter that certain parts of El's anatomy need more attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paying Attention

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Lionessvalenti for the beta.
> 
> This was written for kink_bingo, to fill the prompt: "Nipple Play".

Peter was engrossed in the sports pages of the Sunday Times when he realized that Neal had said something. "What was that?" he asked absently.

"She wants us to play with her nipples more."

"What?" Peter looked up, all thoughts of Saturday's game disappearing.

"El," said Neal. "Her nipples need more attention."

"I give her nipples plenty of attention." Peter frowned, trying not to feel affronted.

Neal smiled and shook his head. "Peter," he said, an overly patient expression settling onto his face. "There's attention, and then there's _attention_."

Peter raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Yes."

"I think I know my wife, Neal," said Peter, using that tone of voice that _always_ got Neal to be quiet for a bit.

Neal just shrugged, and smirked at him from across the table. Peter returned his attention to the sports pages, because he knew that El would want to discuss them with him when she got home from the fundraiser brunch she was co-ordinating.

The rest of the morning passed quietly. Neal escaped to the little studio he'd set up in the den to work on a piece that Peter _hoped_ was legal (but he wasn't going to ask). Peter let himself become engrossed in the crossword, which he could never do when Neal was around because Neal would always look over his shoulder and give him all the answers, and it just wasn't as much fun that way.

Just before noon, Satchmo decided that he'd been neglected for long enough, and Peter found himself subjected to a series of excited barks, playful licks and various other signs of furry affection. Within minutes, Neal had decided to join in the fun, and Peter realized that he was going to have to take both of them out for a walk.

The weather outside was mild and sunny, which was good not only for walking the dog, but also because it meant that El's brunch--a swanky rooftop affair--was going to be a definite success. And when El was happy, Peter and Neal were happy.

_Very_ happy, usually.

Peter smiled in anticipation of their likely afternoon activities, and Neal grinned when Peter caught his eye; in this, at least, Peter was fairly sure their minds were on the same track.

Well, except for the whole nipple thing.

Neal let Satchmo off his leash when they reached the local dog park and Peter settled himself onto one of the benches. When Neal joined him a few moments later, Peter decided that it was time to broach the topic again.

He cleared his throat. "So... nipples." Peter wished that he was better at raising awkward topics in public.

Neal raised his eyebrows. "You considering what I said before?"

"Maybe."

"Only maybe?"

Peter stared out across the park in consternation. "If El wanted us to do more, she'd tell us. She's good like that."

"She's good with things like handcuffs and that collar you have me wear sometimes, but this... tell me, Peter, when was the first time you saw her nipples?"

Peter sat up straighter and looked around him to make sure that no one else was close enough to overhear. "Second date," he said. "She invited me up to her apartment."

"And how often have her nipples featured in your sex life since then?"

"All the time."

"Exactly. They're always there, you always give them a little lick, a little kiss--you don't _think_ about them. And neither does El, probably."

"But you do?"

Neal shrugged. "Reading people is my thing."

"I suppose it is."

A jolt coursed through Peter's body as Neal's hand closed around his wrist. "Look, Peter," Neal said. "Let me show you what I mean. This afternoon, if El's up for it."

Peter's mouth suddenly felt dry at the thought. "Okay, then," he found himself saying. "Let's see what you can do."

Neal grinned. "You won't be sorry, Peter."

***  
***

El had returned home by the time that Peter, Neal and Satchmo arrived back at the house. They found her sitting on the couch, her stockinged feet resting on the coffee table and an iced tea in her left hand. She looked a little tired, but Peter could see that she had a satisfied smile on her face--the one she always got when her events went off without a hitch.

"Hey, sweetie, honey," she greeted them as they walked in the door.

"Hey, yourself," said Peter. Satch ran across the room to greet her, licking at her hand.

"Hello, gorgeous." Neal stepped up behind the couch so he could knead El's shoulders.

Peter met El's gaze, and they shared a smile.

"I'll get lunch ready, shall I?" Peter asked, knowing that El rarely had the chance to eat when she was co-ordinating an event.

"That sounds great," said El.

"But leave out the devilled ham," Neal added. Looking down at El, he continued, "I can't believe we haven't cured him of that habit yet."

Peter regarded Neal with mock-exasperation. "I don't _need_ to be cured."

"Of course you don't, honey," said El, with only the faintest hint of insincerity in her voice.

Peter decided that it would be wise not to continue the conversation further, and slipped into the kitchen.

As he began to cover a large platter with cold meats (but no devilled ham), sliced bread and condiments, Peter heard Neal taking Satchmo outside, so he could continue playing in their tiny yard. When he returned to the living room, however, he discovered that Neal's attention was once again focused solely on El. He now sat next to her on the couch, and he'd progressed from massage to kissing her neck.

"Right," said Peter. "I'm guessing lunch will be delayed then."

El looked up at him and nodded fervently, and Neal caught Peter's eye. Peter gave one short nod as a silent understanding passed between them.

Peter set the lunch platter down on the dining table, before he turned his attention back to El and Neal.

"You both look wonderful," he said.

El turned her head towards Peter. "Thanks, honey."

Neal made a muffled noise that might have been a response, but whatever he'd said was lost in the curve between El's neck and her shoulder. One of Neal's hands worked at the buttons on El's blouse, undoing them in a deft manner that Peter had never been able to master (not that El seemed to mind when Peter just tore her shirt off instead).

Peter saw that as Neal progressed downwards, he allowed his fingers to brush lightly over the visible bumps of El's nipples. If he hadn't been looking for it, he probably wouldn't even have noticed; Neal made every movement look natural and spontaneous. Peter ran his hand lightly across his crotch, allowing his fingers to caress his growing erection through his trousers.

As they removed her blouse altogether, both Neal and El lowered themselves off the couch and onto the rug, and Peter crossed the room to kneel behind El's head. He ran his hands through her hair while Neal reached behind to unhook her bra. Neal caught Peter's gaze as El raised her arms, and Peter leaned forward and kissed him, his tongue darting forward briefly to brush across Neal's lips. While Neal finished removing her bra, Peter moved back far enough that he could lean over to kiss El too.

El pressed back against him hungrily, moaning in a way that sent a thrill straight from Peter's mouth to his groin. The crown of Neal's head brushed against Peter's hair as Neal lowered his lips to El's breasts, and Peter felt El respond, arching her back and shuddering.

Peter knew that was his cue to open his eyes and observe. He raised his head, and saw that Neal's tongue was running along El's cleavage. Neal looked up a moment and winked at Peter, and then he bent his head again and allowed his tongue to flick lightly against one of El's nipples. Peter noted the way that El's breathing quickened, and the way that color rose to her cheeks as Neal moved from one nipple to the other, still only teasing. He watched the way El's areolae contracted as Neal used his lips and his tongue on her, the soft pink circles becoming dimpled red nubs.

"God, Neal," El said, breathless.

Neal seemed to use El's words as a signal; at the sound of his name, he bit down on El's left nipple, hard; Peter recognised Neal's technique and knew that he had found that place that balanced on the edge of pleasure and pain. El cried out, and Peter felt himself shiver at the sound of it. One of Neal's hands made its way to El's right nipple, twisting it, pinching down, while his other hand went to work on her skirt, pulling it up over her hips so that he could place one of his own legs between both of hers. She bucked against him, groaning.

Peter never let himself forget that Neal was an artist (if he'd done that, he never would have caught the man), but sometimes he was still surprised at the way Neal could make an art of just about anything, including, it seemed, El's nipples. His hands moved over her breasts with the same care and attention that he'd use on any painting or sculpture, stroking and twisting and squeezing at just the right moments, and he used his mouth--his teeth, his tongue, his breath--as though he was playing a musical instrument.

El moaned and swore and wrapped her legs--still covered by her stockings--around Neal more tightly, and she pressed herself against him as hard as possible. Peter could imagine the way it must feel for her; she'd be able to feel Neal's erection pressing against her even as he focused all his attention on those two small points on her breasts. Keeping one hand on El's head, Peter loosened his belt and his fly to give his hardened dick some extra room, but he refrained from touching himself directly; this was about El's pleasure, not his. She smiled up at him, her eyes glowing.

"Peter." Neal's voice was low and almost desperate. "Your hand."

Without even thinking about it, Peter extended his right arm, and allowed Neal to catch his hand, guiding it down to El's breast. Instinctively, Peter mimicked Neal's movements, his fingers twisting, hard and gentle at the same time. In the same moment, Neal's mouth closed around her other nipple, and Peter felt El begin to shudder, moments before she cried out loudly, in that familiar way that told him she was coming and coming hard.

"Fuck," she said finally, although Peter could still feel the aftershocks of her orgasm trembling through her body. "Fuck."

Neal pulled back from El at last, and sat up on his knees, a grin that was entirely too smug settling onto his face. "Good?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah." El smiled lazily, stretching her arms out from her sides.

"See?" said Neal, catching Peter's eye. "I told you so."

"Hmph." Peter tried to make himself frown, but he couldn't quite manage it. "I suppose you might've had a point."

El's eyes narrowed playfully as she shifted her gaze from Peter to Neal and back. "Were you boys talking about me while I was gone?"

"Neal started it," said Peter, quickly.

Somehow, Neal managed to look penitent and pleased with himself at the same time. "Yup," he said. "All my fault. I take full responsibility for all of this."

El sat up, the palms of her hands against the floor. "You know what?" she said. "I think I'll blame both of you. You both played a role, after all."

Peter sighed. "And Caffrey gets me in trouble once again."

"Oh, admit it," said Neal, looking at Peter. "You have no regrets."

El laughed. "I certainly hope not," she said. "Now, come on, you two, it's time for lunch. And if you're good, I might let you play with each other afterwards."

Peter had to smile. "Yes, ma'am!" he said.

Silently, Peter made a note to himself, to ask Neal if he had any more ideas like this stashed away inside that head of his. This was going to be a very good afternoon.


End file.
